Romancefest 3: Sadiefest - The Remains of the Day

It's hard not to identify with the butler played by Anthony Hopkins in THE REMAINS OF THE DAY, a tragic love story about a man who spends most of his life being wrong and only begins to fully understand his mistake when it is far too late. Some people must live with more regrets than others, but I imagine even the happiest, most well adjusted person sometimes wonders what might have been if only things had worked out a little differently. The fact that this story exists is proof that I'm not alone with these thoughts, but I wonder how many people are truthful enough with their own feelings to even consider how wrong they might have been.

Hopkins stars as the head butler at an estate in England. As the story begins, a new lord has taken over the manor, a retired American politician played by Christopher Reeve. Hopkins has asked for a leave of absence to visit the manor's old head of housekeeping, Emma Thompson, who he hasn't seen in 20 years. As Hopkins begins his journey across the country, he reminisces on his days of service with Thompson in the years between the World Wars, when the lord of the manor was a Nazi sympathizer (James Fox).

The thrust of the story involves Hopkins' character's own views on his position in life. As far as he's concerned, he's dedicated and loyal to his lord. It is not his job to have an opinion, or show emotion, or get involved in anything other than the day to day tasks of making sure the house runs smoothly. He takes this position so seriously that it eventually interferes with his personal relationships with his father (Peter Vaughan) who comes to the house to work in his old age, and with Thompson, who he is clearly in love with, and who returns his affections, but who he can never be truthful with.

Hopkins also struggles to understand the place of morals and ethics in the small corner of the world that he has devoted himself to. It is one thing to blindly serve in a vacuum, but the world is not a vacuum, and Hopkins' employer is knee deep in trying to influence the important heads of state and nobility of England to roll over for Hitler. In the days leading up to the second World War, world affairs intrude into the household more and more until it gets to the point that following a simple order may turn out to be a question of morality. Take, for instance, the crucial scene in which Fox orders Hopkins to fire two Jewish refugees who have escaped Germany and come to work at the house.

Hopkins doesn't say anything to betray his stance on the issue, but we can clearly see on his face that he questions the wisdom and meaning of such an order. He goes through with it, but not until after an argument with Thompson, who is just as professional as he is, but who is not afraid to say that it is wrong and that if the Jewish girls go, she goes, too.

Of course, she does not go. She has nowhere to go, and she's afraid of being alone. The difference between Thompson and Hopkins is that Thompson freely admits this. She speaks her moral stance, then owns up to her own weaknesses. Hopkins tries his best not to betray any hint of his own personal feelings, to the extent that Thompson believes he either doesn't care or agrees with their employer. When Hopkins finally says otherwise, in casual conversation, Thompson is exasperated -- why didn't he just say that in the first place? Why can't he ever say what he means?

I think a lot of people can probably relate to this conundrum. Everyone wants to be understood, but sometimes people are afraid to communicate. I've had many instances where I wanted to say or do something, and I didn't, and I could tell I was doing the wrong thing even as it was happening. The more it happens, the more it becomes almost an out of body experience, as if you're watching yourself say or do the wrong things, or betray your own feelings, but you can't do anything to stop yourself. You think, "Here I go again," but that doesn't help. It seems so simple -- saying what you mean. But it's not.

THE REMAINS OF THE DAY is beautifully shot and impeccably acted. This quietly complex story is approached with all of the attention to detail and restraint that it needs and deserves. Still, the drama explored here is so universal and so touching, all of this beauty seems to stand at a starkly poignant counterpoint to the sad, regretful, quiet man at its center.